Fall
by The Strongest Hero
Summary: Each breath scraped and rattled painfully in his lungs. The pavement beneath him was cold and unforgiving. He couldn't remember where he was, or he he'd gotten here. 'I'm going to die here.'
1. Chapter 1

**AN: **For the DRRR Kink meme (like part 8 forever ago OTL) response to **'Kida Masaomi **tied up and bleeding'

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><p>The first thing that registered in Masaomi's mind when he regained consciousness was immense pain. He hurt. Everything hurt. Goddamn he HURT. There was a burning, <em>throbbing<em> pain in his abdomen. Fuck, OUCH. He curled into a tighter ball, as if to protect his agonized stomach, only to realize he couldn't quite move that way. Something had bound his feet together, and it seemed to be tied to another something, preventing him from curling into the fetal position.

What the hell was going on? He couldn't seem to remember. The last thing he recalled was walking home with Mikado and Anri, after that things got hazy. He moaned around the gag (gag!) tied around his mouth and squeezed his eyes closed tighter. His head was throb, throb, throbbing and it was so hard to think clearly when everything _hurt_ so fucking much. The familiar sounds of the city resonated around him, reverberating in his aching skull like some kind of annoying alarm.

He pulled his arms (tied behind his back, what the _fuck_?) closer to his damaged body. He couldn't think straight, coherent thoughts slipping through the grasp of his mind like flowing water, and god _damn_ his stomach hurt, far too much for rational thinking.

Everything hurt, he was only now realizing how cold he felt, his thoughts were floating about like clouds, and were just about as easy to catch, and he was absolutely soaked in something that was far too sticky to simply be water.

He could feel himself drifting away, and he didn't try to fight it. He just wanted to _sleep_, surely things would be better, would make far more sense, when he awoke.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: **I am so sorry about the wait for this, and if there's no one around to read it I'd understand. I fought to get this chapter out of me like a wrestler fighting an elephant. And it's super boring too. Sorry. I hate writing Mikado.

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><p>It had been four days since anyone had last seen Masaomi Kida.<p>

It was not uncommon for Masaomi to skip school. What was unusual was Mikado not hearing from him in so long. He'd missed two days of school, and wasn't answering his phone at all. Sometimes Masaomi forgot to charge it, it wasn't that odd an occurrence. It was only when Mikado had gone to his friend's apartment and found it entirely undisturbed, as if Masaomi had never been in at all, that he'd really started to worry.

He'd taken to wandering about the city, hoping he'd run into his exuberant friend, who would cheerily give him a completely obvious explanation that Mikado had failed to notice. And then Masaomi would tease him and he'd get embarrassed and everything would be so normal it would be as if nothing had happened in the first place. Everything would be okay again.

Because without him around, things were not okay.

There was an uncomfortable and ever present tenseness between him and Sonohara that had never been there with Masaomi around. Conversation was limited to shy greetings and forced statements about the weather.

The worry was starting to gnaw away at him in an entirely unpleasant way. It made it difficult to focus on schoolwork, or even things like the Dollars. The more he thought about it the more he convinced himself something truly atrocious had happened to his friend.

On this particular night, Mikado found himself wandering into the seedier back alleys of Ikebukuro. The maze of streets and narrow passages was entirely unfamiliar to him, but maybe that's why he chose to search there, despite the lingering danger that seemed to emanate from the very walls. Or maybe it was _because_ of the foreboding atmosphere that he decided to head into the unfamiliar territory, leaving the safety of the well bright and crowded streets.

The winding back routes introduced a completely new scene to him. This was a side of the city he'd never before seen. He'd not realized that hidden beneath the cities bright and colorful lights lurked an entirely different world, as if it were a different city entirely.

The passing of young men, proudly wearing the colors of their chosen gang, grew more frequent the deeper he ventured. With each flash of color his heart started and he made himself as insignificant as possible, loath to draw their attention. None of them paid him any mind. They ran by and continued on whatever business they'd set out to do.

It isn't long before Mikado realizes his aimless wandering has gotten him quite lost, and that perhaps drifting about in an unfamiliar part of the city was not such a great idea. He turned around and headed back in the direction he thought he'd come in. It wasn't long before he found himself before a dead end.

His frustration was short lived, and was quickly beginning to melt away to make room for fear. He was in a bad, unfamiliar part of town, that was filled with people of the more unsavory sort, and he knew when it came down to it, he'd lose in a fight; he couldn't rely on the dollars in this situation.

While thinking of his own predicament, he couldn't help but to imagine the situations Masaomi could be in. He couldn't help but to picture him lying somewhere, beaten and broken, or tied up in somebody's basement, or perhaps he was kidnapped and sold as a slave. He found the pace of his breathing picking up as his thoughts on the fate of his friend became darker and darker. His imagination was running away, and dragging him across rough pavement behind it.

He starts as a loud clattering to his left pulls hims from his thoughts. He tenses, and looks around frantically for something to defend himself with, and nearly jumps out of his skin when the lid of a nearby trash can clangs against the pavement at his feet. He fails to stop a relieved sigh from escaping his lips when the small furry head of a raccoon emerges from the waste bin.

Mikado takes a moment to mentally berate himself before choosing a path between the crumbling graffitied walls of the buildings around him. He finds himself looking upwards, to the sliver of sky he can make out between the tall buildings. It's shining the way it always does before a storm, creating an eerie atmosphere that has Mikado shivering and rubbing his arms. A loud crack of thunder has him increasing his pace, but it is for naught.

The rain starts as a light drizzle, and Mikado quickens his step even more. As sudden as the flick of a light, the skies emptied into the tempest's wrath, and it doesn't take long for his clothes to be soaked through entirely.

His feet are carrying him swiftly, and he is no longer paying attention to where he is going. Only looking for a place that would give him even the briefest respite from the bone-numbing chill of the rain. He rounds a corner and stops dead when finds the narrow passage occupied.

The taller, darker figure has the other, a scrawny, nervous looking man, pinned against the wall. Two heads are turned towards him upon his entrance, and Mikado ponders his chances of slipping back into the darkness of the alley behind him.

Not so great, he figures, and he watches in slight horror as the taller figure makes a move with their hand at the other persons neck, causing them to slide to the ground, leaving consciousness behind. The remaining person rummages through the unconscious man's pockets for a moment before turning to the petrified raven before them.

Mikado can't seem to force his feet to move as the figure approaches him. The individual pulls something from their sleeve and a bright, slightly green, glow illuminates the space around the pair, allowing Mikado to see the curve of a motorcycle helmet, streaked with rain. The screen is turned to him and he is temporarily blinded by the brightness.

Squinting, he manages to read the text on the screen before it is covered in droplets and streaks of rain. _Mikado? What are you doing here?_

He blinks, and it takes a moment before his tired brain is able to put two and two together. His blue eyes widen as the realization dawns on him.

"Celty?" He hadn't recognized the Dullahan before, obscured as she was by the rain and overall gloom. He shakes his head at his overall foolishness. "I was just, uh..." It seems childish and stupid to say he was out looking for his missing friend who is probably completely fine. He laughs nervously. "I guess I just got a little lost." The PDA is facing him again in mere seconds.

_Would you like a ride?_ Squinting through the gloom he can make out the form of her motorcycle, leaning against a wall. Mikado looks up into her helmet. The rain is creating a slight mist about her head and shoulders. "Thank you," he smiles gratefully. "I would really appreciate it."

A helmet of shadows is quickly placed on his head, and he locks his arms tightly around Celty's torso as the bike takes off with a whinny.

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><p><strong>AN: <strong>Please excuse any spelling errors, this was written at a very late hour, and sleep deprivation doesn't mesh well with dyslexia. I intend to have the next chapter out far quicker than this one. 

And I know this sounds pathetic, but pretty please review? I'd like to have at least _one _review that I didn't have to ask for orz.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN:** Hey, I know it's been awhile... do you still love me baby? xD

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><p>Masaomi is brought to awareness by the cold prickling of icy water sliding down his face. The first droplet is soon joined by another, and another, and he is soon his already damp clothes are being soaked through, thoroughly chilling him as well as cleansing him of some of the unpleasant stickiness.<p>

He was brought the rest of the way into the consciousness when his stomach gave a particularly viscous throb. A hiss of pain escaped from between his clenched teeth.

Slitted gold eyes take in the grimy alleyway he's found himself in before sliding closed again. He can feel his breaths getting shallower and he knows that's not good news, but he just can't bring himself to _care_ because son of a fuck everything hurts just too damn much.

The cold rain is bothersome, causing aggressive tremors to run through his system, which in turn jars the pain in his stomach, the pain reassuring him that it's here for the long haul.

The ever-present sounds of the city seem muted; it must either be late at night or he was in a more secluded part of the city, or both. That or there was something wrong with his hearing on top of everything else.

With the cold precipitation biting at him on top of the ever-present agonizing pain in his stomach, he briefly entertains the thought of dying. He wonders if he'll be stranded in where-ever-the-fuck he is until he freezes or bleeds out. When he hears the distinctive sound of sneakers against wet pavement he considers a third option. Maybe he'll get lucky and someone will come along and put him out of his misery.

He is able to identify several pairs of feet coming towards him at a reckless speed. His maybe-not-so-impaired hearing tells him there almost upon him and-

Ooph!

White lights explode behind his eyes and his mouth opens in a silent scream he doesn't have the breath for, coming out as a pathetic puff of air. He folds himself over as far as he can in his restrictive position. He could feel his abdomen singing with pain.

The body of the person who ran into him, toe directly to the spot that housed his most intense pain, is currently sprawled across the wet asphalt, his legs over Masaomi's body.

"Aw man, what the fuck?" The husky voice comes from above, one of the runners who managed to stop before reaching Masaomi. Which is all as well because whether he could or not, be didn't want to survive another blow to his stomach like that.

"What the hell man?" This comes from the hooligan sprawled across the young blond as he slowly retracts his legs and writes himself.

"Man is that your blood?" The third voices sounds panicky, but Masaomi's focus on the conversation is waning. He wonders if he could smack his head into the concrete hard enough to render him unconscious. He can already feel the effects of what he recognizes to be blood loss taking a toll on him.

And then he can feel someone touching his face. Grabbing onto his chin and tilting his head. He hasn't any idea what these hooligans intend to do with him, now that they seem to have noticed him, but he doesn't have the energy to muster an appropriate emotional reaction

His eyes slide open the smallest amount, and he is barely able to make out a blurry face before they close again.

"Shogun? Aw shit man." Masaomi can't bring himself to respond, or to even decide if it's a good or bad thing that he's been discovered by one of his scarves in his current state.

It's probably a bad thing.

The voices are discussing something in an urgent tone, and it takes him longer than it should to realize it's him. They're voices are starting to seem warbled, and he can feel the voice of unconsciousness calling to him like a siren.

The cloth is removed from his mouth. How had he not realized how dry his mouth was? His tongue was heavy and numb in his mouth, making it impossible to swallow.

There's shifting around him, and then tension that he wasn't even entirely aware of is released around his legs and arms that signifies the release of whatever had been restricting his movements. He uses this new found freedom to curl himself into a tight defensive ball.

The voices around him are beginning to sound like they're coming from under water, and Masaomi is beginning to feel almost as if he's floating out of his body. He can scarcely hear something being mentioned about a hospital before a loud protest of "NO" brought him more fully into awareness and something was said about uncomfortable questions.

"I know a guy," it's rumbled from above, but with the way thoughts seem to be sliding out of his head, as if tilted at some odd angle, it doesn't really mean much to Masaomi.

Nothing meant much to Masaomi in his current situation, nothing but ceasing the pounding in his head and the pain in his stomach that seamed to resonate with each beat of his heart. That is, nothing meant much to Masaomi until he felt himself being moved.

He didn't even try to stifle the pained hiss that slid between his teeth as he was lifted into someone's arms and held against their chest. He can hear a heart beating against his ear that syncopates with the pounding in his head in a painful melody.

And when he starts moving _dear god_ he is sure he's going to die. It hurts too much. This is the end for him.

But he doesn't die. He is hurried though the winding roads of the city, the street lights above flashing periodically above, temporarily blinding him every few moments and sending a shock of pain through his aching skull.

The voices around him are dulling to a buzz, and he can feel the world around him growing fuzzy, his senses blunting. He falls gracefully back into the arms of unconsciousness.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: **Terribly sorry for the long wait! Life's been kicking my ass recently...

It's very late and this hasn't been proof read, so if you find any mistakes feel free to point them out.

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><p>The slick pavement glistened with rain as it sped underneath the wheels of Celty's bike. Mikado clung to the rider, his thoughts still on his missing friend. As much as he tried no to, he couldn't remove the image of Masaomi hurt and alone from his mind, and his thoughts seemed to get progressively more grim.<p>

He gave himself a physical shake, more to dislodge the frightening thoughts than the raindrops collecting in the creases of his jacket and across his shoulders. The dullahan turns slightly to look at him, but is soon distracted by the cheery jingly emitting from the hand-held device in her sleeve. She slides it against her empty helmet with one hand and continues driving with the other. After a quick one-sided conversation, she changes the direction of their path, and glances back at Mikado before accelerating.

Mikado is puzzled, but he trusts Celty and simply bends his head further against the harsh cold of the rain.

It isn't long before the bike is making the turn into the building Mikado has come to know as Celty's home, shared with the strange but charming Doctor Kishitani. He was more than certain there was something between them beyond friendship, but that was for another time- a time when he wasn't drenched through completely and having involuntary, gut-wrenching visions of his closest friend in mortal peril.

They dismount and Celty pats the bike gently, earning a content whinny, before whipping her PDA out and beginning to type. Mikado leans forward to read the screen as it is turned towards him.

_Sorry, Shinra has some unsavory guests. He'd like my help convincing them to leave. It sounded kind of important. _She wiped the screen before turning it back again. _I'll take you home when they're gone._

**"**Oh, that's okay," Mikado said as he followed Celty into the building. "It's really cold at my place when it rains, so I really don't really mind that much. And this is probably more important than taking me home, plus it's raining so much and so hard, the roads are probably really slick." He found himself rambling to the silent biker as they headed towards their destination. He couldn't bring his mind away from the probably-totally-awful state of his missing friend. He physically shook his head in an effort to clear the nasty thoughts. Masaomi's absence was really starting to take a toll on him. It was like when he'd left Saitama all over again; Mikado knows he's over thinking this. Over thinking ruins everything. Ruins the situation, twists things around, makes you worry, and just makes everything worse than is actually is, because he is sure his friend must be fine.

Probably.

Celty pushes open the door to her flat and they are greeted with a wall of yellow clad bodies, backs turned towards them. A head turns at the sound of their entrance.

"Okay, whoa. We'll leave, no biggie. No need to bring the black rider into this." More of the gang members are turning and looking Celty, who must appear intimidating, judging by their reactions.

"The rider? Shit man, I'm out."

"Yeah, let's go." And the yellow scarves are filing out, keeping wary eyes on the Dullahan as they pass. The last one pauses at the door. "Just, let us know, ok Doc?" He calls back.

"Sure, sure," Shinra's faint voice comes from further back in the apartment, where he can't be seen.

_He must have a patient__. _Celty turns her PDA towards him. That explains the gang members. Gang violence. Mikado grimaces, and takes a moment to appreciate the simplicity of his own gang. Celty makes her way towards the back room and Mikado trails behind at a respectable distance, curiosity overtaking him.

Dr. Kishitani has a mask pulled up over his lower face and a suture in his hand. There's red on a cloth that was obviously used to wipe blood away from the still-bloody body in front of him. He looks to the IV- probably a pain killer or anesthetic of some kind- before looking up further at the motionless figure and-

Oh no.

Oh no no nonononono.

No no no. But Mikado looks at his friend, bloody and unconscious- perhaps it's the dreadful lighting that bleaches the color from his skin, that must be it- and the constant reassuring himself of Masaomi's safety is rendered completely useless, because he gets a good look at his friend and sees he is absolutely most certainly _not fine._

Mikado didn't even realize he'd begun to hyperventilate, and he wonders briefly when he ended up sitting on the floor. Celty crouches in front of him, but he can't seem to focus enough to read the screen before his face. His head is in his hands now and all he can think about is the blood the blood the _blood_. So red on his friend- _his best friend_-'s pale skin.

Kishitani-sensei's voice comes to him like he's underwater; the words are garbled and stripped of meaning. There's tugging and Celty has pulled him to his feet, pulled him from the room with the blood, blood blood so much blood. Masaomi's blood.

He feels light headed.

He's sitting on a couch in the front room, but his mind is still in the back room with his friend. His heart is pounding and though his eyes are fine he can't seem to see properly.

Celty's glowing screen is in front of him, but he just can't read it. His eyes are fine, they're fine, he's sure they're fine, but his brain isn't interpreting the images being sent to it. His breath is catching in his lungs.

And Celty is shaking him. He looks at the face of the PDA she is shoving into his face and he blinks until the words come into focus. It's just his name, Mikado, with a line of explanation points behind it.

For a second he's forgotten how to speak, his heart is in his throat. He swallows thickly, forcing it back into place in his breast. He takes a few shaky breaths in an effort to calm himself before looking up to Celty again.

"I-i'm sorry," he took another deep breath.

_Are you okay?_

Mikado reads this and merely nods.

_Do you know him?_

Mikado's hand moves to the back of his neck. "Um, yeah." Man, his mouth is so dry. "That's my friend." He struggles to swallow the lump in his throat. "H-he's been missing." He trailed off as he was bombarded with images of his friend as he'd seen him -was it really only moments ago? -pale and covered in sticky red. He resisted the urge to shiver.

He looked out the glass door to the dark sky beyond the balcony. It was completely black now, and the storm rages on, the wind howling and the startling booms of thunder growing in frequency.

He looks away from the window when Celty turns her screen towards him again.

_Do you have any idea what happened to him?_

Mikado slowly shook his head and brought his knees to his chest, resting his chin on them. What could've happened to him? Was it the yellow scarves? But they wouldn't have brought him to a doctor, if that's who they were even here about in the first place.

Mikado sighed shakily and wondered what was going on in the other room.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: **Dear god ten thousand apologies to anyone who is still interested in this. Life gets in the way and the longer I spend away from this the harder it is to get back to. It has been entirely too damn long, and for that I apologize. On the other hand, I'm hoping I can just hurry up and wrap the whole thing up soon. Fingers crossed for that.

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><p>The door swung open.<p>

Mikado feels his insides twisting into knots as he catches sight of the doctor's furrowed eyebrows.

Shinra turns to him. "Mikado, do you know that kid?" The curiosity in his voice has the teenager quaking. He was well aware of the sort of thing that piqued Shinra's curiosity, and he hardly manages to nod.

"Could you come with me for a second then? I just have a quick question." Mikado's knees are shaking as he stands from the couch and for a moment he thinks he's going to make another unexpected trip to the floor before he steadies himself and heads towards Shinra and the door.

Why does a simple slab of wood seem so foreboding?

It's because Mikado knows what hides behind it.

Blood blood there was so much blood. How could someone live after losing that much? And Masaomi, he had been so pale, so pale he looked dead.

Oh god. He's dead isn't he? To think, Mikado had worried all evening if his friend was still with the living, and yet it had seemed such a shallow fear because _of course_ he was, to think that these fear addled delusions had come true, it made him want to sink to the floor and violently sob. The closer Mikado gets to the room where he knows his friend is probably laying cold and lifeless on Shinra's operating table the faster his pulse is jumping, he can feel it in every part of his body. He grows more and more certain that his friend, his _best_ friend is already gone. This is what Shinra wanted to ask about isn't it? He wants to ask if he can dissect Masaomi's dead body in the name of science.

He steps into the room and does his best to look anywhere, _anywhere_, but the darkening blood on the floor and the table and _oh god it's everywhere_.

His heart is in his throat and he can't find his lungs and the room is growing smaller. Growing smaller until it crushes him and all he can hear is his heartbeat echoing off the cramped walls and the inside of his skull.

And then Mikado feels a hand on his shoulder, a voice from underwater becomes clearer as he's grounded.

"Are you alright?" It's only on the third repetition of the phrase that the question registers with him, but he manages a hollow nod.

The look Shinra gives him is a dubious one, but he retracts his hand.

"Does your friend have any heart condition that you know of?" The question throws Mikado off so much that the fog temporarily lifts from his mind and his attention focuses acutely on the doctor.

"W-What?"

"A heart condition? Or maybe some kind of brain irregularity?"

"What? N-no, he has nothing like that."

"Hm, no that wouldn't make sense either." He mutters to himself then turns toward the blond on the table, where Mikado had been trying to avoid looking.

Masaomi looks much better without all the blood smeared across him, but he's still paler than a ghost and breathing (He's _breathing_) shallowly.

Mikado strangles a whimper in his throat before it has a chance to surface.

Shinra pulls the sheet back from Masaomi's bare torso, letting it rest around his hips. He pints to a straight pink line of stitching.

"This here is what I just did, it looked like it had been stitched recently and just tore open, but that's not the most interesting thing." His glasses glint and Mikado feels a shudder chasing itself up his spine, chills erupting across his body.

"Look here," The doctor points to another place on Masaomi's abdomen, near his hip. Even Mikado can tell it's _wrong, wrong, so so wrong_.

The glint of metal against his skin, over a swell that _just shouldn't be there_.

His stomach had dropped somewhere in the vicinity of his shoes and he has to grip the edge of the table to stay upright. Despite this he cannot bring his eyes to look away.

After swallowing thickly and spending several agonizing seconds trying to regain control of his tongue he manages to choke out a shakey "What the hell _is_ that?"

Shinra just seems a little too gleeful as he turns his head to face him. "Well why don't we find out?" He lifts his scalpel and the dangerous glint from the reflective metal matches that of the glint in his eyes.

Before there is a chance to ask what he means or if that really is the best idea the blade is descending on his friend and sweeping across the disturbing mystery.

A tear of blood weeps out and Mikado can hardly imagine Masaomi has any more that he can afford to lose, but the beading red is wiped away before he has much of a chance to pursue the thought. Shinra peels the pale skin away from the protrusion like the curtain to their own personal horror story.

His stomach churns restlessly as gloved fingers probe inside the bloody pocket and slowly and gently pulling out some grey _thing_. The blood and skin cling to it as if reluctant give it up and Mikado's grip tightens in the white sheets, surely wrinkly them beyond the smoothing abilities of even the best iron. Mikado is awake but this is surely a nightmare, because he can see the tiny light on the mechanical trinket that Shinra turns in his hands and it sounds like he's at the wrong end of a call with poor reception as the doctor says "It looks like some sort of tracking device."

Suddenly Mikado can feel his lunch making a second appearance as he leans over and retches. His breathing has quickened once again and this time the edges of his vision are fading to a dark that he can't seem to blink away. The floor pitches beneath him and he waits, fully expecting to forcefully introduce his face to the tile, but he is steadied by a pair of strong arms just as the rest of his consciousness leaves him.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> I feel like a lot of people ignore the part of Shinra that dissected the woman he loved AS A FOUR YEAR OLD


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